The 57th Annual Nehru Trophy Snake Boat Race

Thats right kids, this past weekend I ventured down to Kerala to witness the spectacle that is India's largest semi-professional snake boat race. And what is a snake boat race, you might ask? Well it is an Indian version of an ivy league regatta crossed with an Indian version of Preakness with just a little bit of Indian pomp and circumstance thrown in. In short, it is awesome.

Got down to Kerala (a state just south of Karnataka, home to Bengaluru) Friday afternoon and started the long, long drive to our place in the Aleppy backwaters. Aleppy is located in a delta type area that is criscrossed with rivers and canals and bills itself as the Venice of India. We stayed at the Coir Village which is about 35km outside of town right on some rivers (in fact, you have to take a little boat from the car to reception and then another one from reception to our room). We hung out in hammocks, took a sunset cruise on the water and amazingly actually had a relaxing, peaceful night in India.

The next day was the big race and we headed back to Aleppy and jumped onto our boat for the day. We motored out of town and quickly were at the course: a kilometer long stretch filled with thousands of people lining the shores and on thousands of boats all vying for the best view. Settled in for the afternoon, snuck through the cockpit to get to the front of our boat, watched the racing boats warm up but generally drank watered down brandy, ate mystery fish stew (side note: Indians - stop trying to feed me, seriously, it is not cool) and generally tried to avoid getting pushed in the water.  The actual boats were pretty incredible, there were a few different sizes with the biggest (the snake boats) taking six month to build and seating upwards of 120 rowers (plus drummers, yellers, umbrella holders and steerers). Watching 120 folks (there were female, aka kitchen, boats as well) row in synch lifting these massive boats of the water was quite impressive.

Around 2pm Sonia Gandhi, who is not related to the Mahatma but is the president of the ruling party but is not prime minister of the country, kicked off the actual races. A somewhat interesting fact: the race is named in honor of Jawaharlal Nehru who was the first prime minister of India and Sonia Gandhi's grandfather (in law), but this was the first time someone from the Nehru-Gandhi family (kind of like the Kennedys and featuring four prime ministers) actually attended. This was celebrated in what I imagine is traditional south Indian fashion: having a navy diver wearing flippers lowered and raised a few times from a hovering helicopter (not lying).

As the races got going the scene turned more and more to a Pimlico on water. Way too many people crammed onto the boats closest to the race, little skirmishes breaking out between Indians on neighboring boats, kiddy pools full of beer (kidding), clothes coming off (admittedly just guys jumping into the water), and at some point someone broke out a bottle of White Mischief Vodka. After a handful of races (which like Preakness most people didn't pay attention to) the crowd of 40 or so boats was whittled down to 4. With the sun setting, Champakulam defeated twelve time winner Payipad in a scintillating final that (that I'm told) was one of the best snake boat races in history.

Capped off the trip at our new hotel on the beach, making some friends and hadving a bonfire where I once again found myself trying to explain s'mores to foreigners. Spent the next morning on the beach and enjoying an open air shower then cruised back to Bangalore to enjoy a fantastic evening of beer, hookah and french fries.

Cheers,

Jaipur: The land of the kings, the land of the Steves

Last weekend I grabbed my backpack, ducked out of work early and caught a quick flight up to Jaipur in Northern India.  Jaipur is known as the Pink City (painted that way when some Brit visited in the 1850s), the capital of the state of Rajasthan (the Land of the Kings) and is an interesting mix of hinduism, muslim-ism, history, architecture and heat. Accompanying me this little sojourn was Katie, a Yale lawie out in Bangalore for a two month summer internship.

After an inauspicious Friday night (involving first wandering, then rickshawing around lost until 1am) we hit the ground running Saturday morning. And by that I mean we jumped on a cycle rickshaw to the old city, a partially walled section of Jaipur where almost all the buildings are painted pink. Walked around a bit, hung out with our first snake charmer then explored the city palace which is a fairly impressive complex of buildings set in the middle of the packed city. From there it was off to the Govind Devji temple which I believe is the first giant tented evangelical Hindu temple (most Hindu temples have room for like 7 people, this one probably sat 700 with tvs and speakers to broadcast the action) and the Hawa Mahel, an amazing palace created with tons of tiny windows so the muslim chicas could look check out the city without the city checking them out. After a much need shower, we headed to Katie's co-worker's friend's house for a nice, if somewhat awkward, meal. The best part is a tie between a crazy mother telling us how afraid she was of the witches in Salem, Massachusetts because "those people look like they know magic" and listening to Bob Dylan while driving home which was one of those odd yet thoroughly enjoyable moments in a different country.

Sunday we organized a car to explore the surrounding sights but no sooner had we started than we ran smack dab into the middle of a giant hindu parade complete with a brass band, decked out elephants and about five hundred people in bright orange dancing to drummers and bringing water the Shiva temple. Pretty cool way to start the day, then we headed out to Amber and its humongous old fort. It was super impressive, surrounded by 25 miles of boundary walls (the great wall of India) and totally open on the inside so you could wander through everything including the ramparts, turkish baths and of course, the "pleasure palace". From Amber we checked out the 16th century Jaighur fort which houses the world's largest cannon and took six elephants to aim (accurately I'm sure) for the only time it was ever fired, though it did shoot over 20 miles. Following lunch we hiked up to the Temple of the Sun God, ran into some more singing Hindus, wondered if there are any calm, relaxing places in this country (I think this is why meditation started), dodged the requisite beggars, camel ride touts and dude selling sandalwood Ganeshes, shot some photos of a palace built in the middle of the lake and concluded our weekend of being super tourists. Or so we thought. After dinner we searched for a place to enjoy a Kingfisher and randomly wandered into the Hotel Sahn's pretty fantastic rooftop bar. It had a neat view over the old city and a giant outdoor TV playing a very Indian mix of wet t-shirt and pelvic thrusting music videos (though without any kissing - heaven forbid) followed by commercials for Unwanted-72, India's very own morning after the pill. Ultimately, we were the real highlight of the bar with Indian after Indian coming over to us, trying to literally put food in my mouth (wtf, mate?), hitting us with pickup lines ('I have a bet with my friend I can't talk to you'), talking about Woodrow Wilson and asking us random questions. By far the best was the dude who asked me what Steve meant, the best I could come up with (while keeping a straight face) was the King of Horses and then reassuringly told him that "a long time ago, back in England, the Steves used to have huge armies of horses". He accepted this, smiled and bobbed his head... India.

Whats up, Bengaluru?

India is a country where you just have to accept things the way they are. Mail room won't accept your mail? Accept it. People say yes when they mean no? Accept it. Major capital cities change their names in the past three years? Accept it*, and welcome to Bengaluru ("beng-a-loo-roo"). 

So things have been going alright down here in the last few weeks. Bengaluru actually has a pretty decent collection of restaurants and bars, though they close at the barn burning hour of 11:30pm. Two Fridays ago we checked out Purple Haze, a local "rock and roll bar" which means a place blasting (and I mean blasting) rock music with TVs showing recordings of rock concerts and about a hundred people cheering, screaming and generally pretending they are at said rock concerts. Accept it. Another interesting place was The Beach where they have combined almost every possible bar theme: sand on the floor, shots in test tubes, sheesha and pub trivia with a guy who thinks he is the host of Who wants to be a Millionaire from Slumdog. A few other good places I've been for anyone coming out here: 13th Floor, Aira and Via Milano.

There aren't a ton of touristy things to do here, I did check out the ISKCON (Hare Krishna) temple which was, in a word, confusing. I expected some sort of big, elaborate temple that you could wander around, instead it is this massive production that is closer to waiting in line for a ride at Disneyland than anything remotely religious. After negotiating the mazes you see three temples, hear some people chanting "hare krishna" (apparently that is all there is to salvation), get some pure veg snacks then make your way through a massive gift shop. Very odd.

Otherwise, work has been a pain. We are trying to find some people to join the team here, and let me tell you that I no longer have any concerns whatsoever about everyone in America losing their jobs to India. 'Nuff said. In more exciting news, I've finally got my hands on some postcards and stamps, so if you want a card, you know what to do (send me your address).

Cheers,
Mr. Steve

 

*: You can chose to accept it or not, but as the maxim goes: India always wins.

The Unfortunately Named Mysore

This past Saturday found me hopping on a bus for  Mysore, a former royal capital of these parts that is about 3 hours south of Bangalore. While I initially had my doubts about the Indian bus system (in this case the Karnataka State Road Transportation Company - a brand only a government could love), I was thoroughly impressed. The central bus station was pretty organized, the employees were really helpful, the bus was clean, comfortable and conditioned (air that is), I got a printed receipt for my $3 fare, the bus left pretty close to on time and, it being a non-stop, only stopped about 5 times. Way better than Greyhound (not that I've ever ridden Greyhound) and certainly cheaper than Vamoose.

Mysore is a pretty small town centered around a palace built in the mid 19th century by the dude who ruled this part of India. After the palace burned down, it was rebuilt in the early 1900s in a weird mix of hindu, english and islamic styles, so it is a pretty interesting building on the outside. On the inside it is like walking into Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory without all the candy, which is to say it is over the top with lots of little dancing people everywhere. Huge reception halls in bright colors, giant stained glass roofs, intricately carved teak ceilings, marble floors peppered with jewels, rosewood doors inlaid with ivory, silver chandeliers, thrones made of glass and a fun house mirror (which must have caused great amusement according to my audio guide). It alternated between garish and awe inspiring but either way you look at it, it was impressive. Unfortunately no pictures in the palace, but they did light it up at night which was  nice.   The palace puts Mysore pretty solidly on the south India tourist route which had some plusses and minuses. On the up side, I met some interesting other travelers and the locals were pretty friendly and interested in tourists. On the down side, the locals generally wanted you to either buy their pot, buy oils from their auyervedic / witch doctor friend, or see some women making incense sticks. Not sure about the last one, but probably fifteen people thought my visit to Mysore would not be complete until they had taken me to see this.  I also checked out the local market which turned out to be awesome. There were probably three hundred people all trying to sell heaps and heaps (literally giant piles) of all sorts of fruits, vegetables and flowers. From  the supper pungent durians to huge cucumbers to scary dried peppers, there was something for everyone. And apparently someone had told everyone that white people like mangoes because that is all anyone tried to sell me, it was like I was in a weird Chris Rock routine. In the end I grabbed a pomegranate, snapped a few photos and headed back to B'lore just in time to grab some Sunday drinks at the 13th Floor lounge which is actually located on the 14th floor (they start with G, not 1).

 

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

 

P.S. If you think Mysore is a bad name, check this out.

The economics of shaving, surviving the escalator and other random musings

I've had about ten days in this "town of boiled beans" (aka Bangalore aka Bengaluru) and while things continue to go well, there are more than a handful of "interesting" things I've experienced:

• If you factor in the cost of shaving cream and assume that you use a new razor blade every 7 shaves, it costs the same amount for me to go to my friendly barber, have him lather me up and give me a ridiculously close straight razor shave (this actually gets done twice in each sitting) for 41 cents than it does for me to shave myself. I also happen to love wet shaves.
  
  
• As anyone who has talked to an Indian call center can attest, they have their own special version of Ingles. My favorite new phrase out here is "please do the needful" which I've seen in no less than 8 emails and is probably the most roundabout way of saying "get this done".
  
  
• I would rank Bangalore as a 4 on the SSDI, the Steve's Sidewalk Development Index which I'll argue is as good a method of measuring development as anything else. That puts it strongly ahead of Nairobi and its meandering dirt trails, but well behind Berlin with its bike lanes and ramps.
  
  
• They say necessity is the mother of all invention, so during a recent bout of Delhi Belly (or a new allergy to Vodka, not sure, only more Vodka will tell), I have developed perhaps the most amazing drug cocktail known to man. 250mg ciproflaxin, 440mg alleve, 500mg pepto, 1000mg vitamin c and then the magical part, if it is day time about 5000mg of chunky peanut butter, if it is night time about 5mg of sleeping pills. If that doesn't make you feel better, you're a goner.
  
  
• I saw two camels all decked out for princely riders in the middle of the street today. I'm not sure what else to say about that, other than it proves I should always, always carry my camera with me.
  
  
• I guess the camels shouldn't  be surprising, India was described to me as the original melting pot and it is amazing all the different people I see on a ten minute walk to work. Religious hindus with their hair stained orange from mehndi, business men with ties and briefcases, Syrian nuns wearing the full frock, beggars in rags, women in floral print saris and muslims decked out with the most fashionable burkas (black is the new black).
  
  
• So far I think the most amazing thing about India is not the mystical spirituality, but that there are adults here who cannot ride escalators. I can sympathize that the first time on an escalator can be a discomforting experience, but come on, they are not a giant man crunching machine of Satan and you know that because you just watched eight thousand people ride the moving stairs. The approach seems to be, wait at the edge for 45 seconds trying understand the complex timing of the stairs (think Sean Connery in The Rock) then either step out with one foot while leaving the other foot on solid ground (causing you to fall backwards) or break out your iron grip on the handrail while leaving both feet on solid ground (causing you to fall forward). Seriously, I've already seen this like 4 times.
  
  
• Lastly, the worst part of Bangalore are the tons of stray dogs everywhere. They  are heartbreaking.

On the way home from work